


Krimson Noir

by Lady_of_Rohan



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: 1940s, Alternate Universe - 1940s, Alternate Universe - Noir, Detective Noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 16:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6122935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Rohan/pseuds/Lady_of_Rohan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some TEW noir AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Krimson Noir

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't despair, chapter 9 of Of Sound Mind is coming VERY soon! ♥

 

 

  
With an unlit cigarette pressed between his lips, Detective Castellanos sought refuge from the brewing storm, his trenchcoat flourishing behind him as the gusty weather threatened to follow like his own shadow, until the snarl of the wind was silenced with the slam of a door. The Department had the usual hustle and bustle of moving bodies and the smooth shuffle of paperwork, but a receptionist, a new girl, was the only one paying him any mind. Everyone else had grown accustomed to the sergeant making an entrance.  
  
Rounding the nearest corner with his dress shoes clicking against the tile floors, tracking mud, Sebastian nearly bumped right into a smaller, familiar figure before he stopped dead in his tracks to prevent a collision.    
  
"Sebastian!" His name was a familiar sound departing from his partner's lips, like an old habit. "The suspect is in custody."  
  
With a folder of files tucked beneath one arm, Joseph adjusted his fedora with his opposite hand. He had a way of wearing that stoic facade, but Sebastian could sense the younger man's restless energy.  
  
Sebastian's surprise would have been veiled, save for the hard lines etched into his rugged features. A dark eyebrow, marred by a long-faded scar, quirked beneath his own hat. He spoke past his cigarette, mumbling his words somewhat. "We got him? You sure it's our guy?"  
  
"Distinctive facial burns, and pale blue eyes? Yeah." Joseph couldn't conceal a triumphant smile. "It's our guy."  
  
" _Sonofabitch_ ," Sebastian's own eagerness was displayed by a jovial slap to Joseph's upper arm, and he returned his unused cigarette to his coat pocket. "Well, what the hell are we waiting for?"  
  
"Come on, he's in the interview room."  
  
Content to follow his loyal companion down the remainder of the hallway, Sebastian's footsteps were lighter than they had been a few moments before. Years of wading through hell and mountain of case files, and they'd finally got the bastard.  
  
Pausing outside of the closed door, Joseph moved aside, to stand near the observation window. "You should go in first. After all, this is your big case."  
  
His dark eyes looked almost misted over, even behind his glasses, and Sebastian managed a smile, if only for him.  
  
 "Thanks, partner. But you know, it's _our_ big case. Now, what do you say we show this sack of shit who's in charge?"  
  
Joseph gave a nod of acknowledgement as Sebastian's large palm twisted the doorknob to reveal the scene of the darkened room, the only light spilling in through the blinds, courtesy of the hallway's lights. But as his amber eyes harshly judged the blonde figure, handcuffed and seated at the table at the center of the tiny room, his eyes caught movement in the shadows. Another form took shape, this one feminine in her fitted gown, arms crossed over her chest and one leg bent to rest a high-heeled foot against the wall behind her. The slit up the side of her dress revealed the entirety of her smooth, pale leg.  
  
"What the _fuck_ is she doing here?" Sebastian demanded, glancing between Joseph and their indisposed subject.  
  
"We're showing her the ropes, in case you don't remember," Joseph offered gently from behind him, lingering near the doorway. "This is her first interview, and it seemed a prime opportunity."  
  
"Relax, Oda," Kidman chimed in, moving cat-like away from the wall, to step into the light. "You don't have to vouch for me. I know he doesn't want me here."  
  
"You're damn right I don't," Sebastian inched closer to her, "this isn't your business."  
  
"Actually, it is," she said, "you have _no idea_ who you're dealing with."  
  
"Sure I do. A spoiled low-life who likes to throw his weight around."  
  
"Are you done squabbling?" All eyes were turned towards the center of the room. The pallid features of the man at the table were calm, but his low voice was edged with sarcasm. Only half of his mouth moved when he spoke, the other side stiffened by scar tissue that stretched from his cheekbone all the way down to his jawline and down his neck. "Or have you forgotten why you're here?"  
  
"Oh, I'm getting to you, _fucker_ ," Sebastian spat. "Just you wait."  
  
" _Seb_..." Joseph's calm warning went seemingly unheard, dissipated into thin air, while Kidman resumed her position on the other side of the room.  
  
"Ruben Victoriano, is that it?" Sebastian said, and he took his time, slowly and deliberately circling the table. "Pretty big name. Too bad a small-time criminal like you doesn't live up to it."  
  
"By all means, continue with your petty insults," Ruben said, gesturing with his handcuffed wrists, as the metal clinked against the table. His focus was solely on Sebastian, his gaze unwavering. "It won't accomplish anything."  
  
"Then I'll cut to the chase. Tell me, Ruben. Where were you on the night of February the 11th, 1942?"  
  
"I can't recall." Ruben almost sounded bored. "That seems an awfully long time ago."  
  
"Oh, you have _no fucking idea_. Maybe you'll learn some concept of time once you're behind bars, waiting for the chair."  
  
Sebastian gestured to Joseph, who gave a nod and promptly moved to neatly lay the file folder down upon the table, flipping it open to reveal several photographs as he spread them out before Ruben. The black and white images were grim, and although Sebastian had seen them time and time again out of sheer necessity, he turned his back. He came to stand directly behind Ruben's chair, his broad-shouldered form blocking any light that threatened to touch him.  
  
"The scene doesn't ring a bell?" He asked, his back to Ruben's, and staring through the crisp white light that poured through the blinds. "Three found dead. Burned alive in their own home."  
  
At that, Ruben heaved a sigh of clear annoyance. "Do you really think I'd ever stoop to such petty crimes? And for what reason? My true potential would be wasted."  
  
"I didn't hear an answer." Sebastian paced back around to the front of the table at which their suspect sat. Reaching within his pocket, he produced his cigarette again, placing it between his lips.  
  
"It would be best if you could cooperate," Joseph chimed in. Under better circumstances, Sebastian would have given him a nod of appreciation. He knew that interrogations were one of his least favorite things in their line of work, and yet he contributed loyally.  
  
"I can't say that it's familiar," said Ruben, after another pause as he glanced between the two men.    
  
"Not familiar, huh?" Sebastian casually pulled out a match, and with a flick of his thumb it ignited with a spark, the fire sizzling audibly as it sprang to life. He brought the flame to his lips, the cigarette lit as he took a long drag, not bothering to shake out the match. "Because I heard you like _fire_ , Victoriano."  
  
He leaned over the table, his face close to Ruben's as smoke was huffed passed his lips, directly into the other man's face. His pale blue eyes were almost eerie in the dim lighting of the room, like an icy blaze as it reflected the match flame in Sebastian's grasp. He noticed that he was staring at it intently, pupils dilating somewhat.  
  
"The answers you seek have to do with _far more_ than just me, _Seb_ ," Ruben said darkly.    
  
Sebastian and Joseph exchanged glances, neither of them entertained by his disrespectful use of the exclusive nickname.  
  
"Call me impatient, but I've already had enough of your bullshit," Sebastian growled. He shook out the match, to lean across the table on his palms, the cigarette still lingering between his lips. "Did you kill them or not?!"  
  
"Did I kill _who_?"  
  
"My family, you fucking murderer!" Paying no mind to the company he kept, or the example that he was setting for the Junior Detective, Sebastian reached forward to grip the lapel's of Ruben's suit, effortlessly hefting him upwards from his chair. Their faces just mere inches away,  the lit-end of his cigarette nearly touching Ruben's nose. But instead of showing hesitation, or fear, the man in his firm grasp merely smiled, even as Joseph moved to attempt to tear Sebastian away from him with a tug of his arm.  
  
"She's right, you know," Ruben taunted, as Sebastian bared his teeth. "You haven't the faintest idea what sort of fire you're _truly_ playing with."  
  
"Enough is enough." It wasn't Kidman's voice that alerted Sebastian to her presence once again, but the sound of a revolver's hammer being pulled back. When he turned over his shoulder to look at her, he was staring straight down the barrel of a gun, accompanied by her strange, orchid eyes. He didn't have time to consider where she was keeping it, or why she had the damned thing in the first place. All he heard was her words, his grip tightening around the material of Ruben's suit before chaos erupted. "He doesn't deserve to live. You don't know what I know."  
  
Sebastian was vaguely aware of Joseph moving beside him, as their shouts meshed together, and the gun went off at point-blank range, the gust caused from that tiny item intense. Helpless to do anything, and spattered with warm blood, Sebastian felt like the storm had followed him after all.


End file.
